It's a small town, after hall A STORY WORTH TELLING
“It’s a small town, son. And the news travels quicker than wheels.”
— James McMurtry
Driving west for an Abilene wedding 20 years ago, I did something that still brings me joy: Taking impromptu detours off the designated route, sometimes to satisfy curiosity and sometimes just to say, “I’ve been there.”
Searching last week for a copy of a relatively new biography of Larry McMurtry reminded me of a detour I made some time ago to Archer City, the hometown of the Pulitzer Prizewinning author.
Archer City is small —1,600 population — where I’m sure news does travel faster than wheels as suggested by McMurtry’s singersongwriter son, Larry McMurtry. It’s not on the road to anywhere, unless you’re taking Texas 25 between Wichita Falls and Olney. Then you’ll find Archer City, where 25 intersects Texas 79, close to Seymour, one of many small towns my family called home before settling in Mount Pleasant.
I wanted to see Archer City for two reasons including visiting McMurtry’s bookstore. Once one of the largest bookshops in the country, “Booked Up” filled four downtown buildings, reportedly housing nearly half a million books.
Another reason was the still-standing Royal Theater featured in the movie based on my favorite McMurtry novel, “The Last Picture Show.” It was filmed in and around Archer City, where my walking around that day was like stepping onto a film set. Vivid visions of the gas station, the pool hall, the theater and the novel’s characters surrounded me.
“Booked Up” buildings lined the streetscape. I wandered inside. The door had barely closed behind me before the building whispered “old car dealership.” Floorto- ceiling showroom windows and a parts department window counter on the back wall were dead giveaways.
Sitting at the onetime parts window was a young lady. She smiled. We made eye contact and exchanged “hellos” before I noticed dos and don’ts posted on the wall near her. Large type on one caught my eye.
In essence, it declared that after many years in the spotlight, McMurtry wished not to be disturbed, and that he no longer accepted requests for photos or autographs.
It ended with, “So, please do not ask.”
Leaving the showroom led me to what was unmistakably once the service department. It had high ceilings, concrete floors and roll-up doors at both ends now filled with endless rows of bookshelves higher than I could reach, divided by narrow aisles.
Browsing the stacks left me intoxicated by the aroma of old paper and mesmerized by countless volumes of history, romance, drama and more.
Then I returned to the “showroom” where I saw an older man sitting alone, reading and taking notes. I glanced outside for a moment, then got a better view of the gentleman who never looked up.
“No,” I thought.
“Can’t be.” Trying not to stare, I looked at “parts department lady.” She grinned, nodding yes, as if in answer to my unspoken question. But there was that sign again — “So, please do not ask.” I looked at her, and she was still smiling. But sadly, this time, while pointing at the sign.
With respect, a sigh and a silent “thumbsup, thank you” in her direction, I looked again before leaving at possibly one of the greatest authors of my time, in the same room with me, oblivious to the world around him.
McMurtry died in 2021. One bookstore building remains today as the McMurtry Legacy Center near the still-standing Royal Theater.
I found Archer City to be more than McMurtry’s legacy, however. It was more than an inspiration for his works. It’s a small town, after all — the kind I enjoy detouring to just to visit. It’s where, as the characters in McMurtry’s novels reflect, the more life changes, the more it stays the same.
And it’s a place about which I can say, “I’ve been there.”
Contact Aldridge at leonaldridge@gmail. com. Other Aldridge columns are archived at leonaldridge.com.
